Before I Die
by Citiesofcolor
Summary: Memories had a funny way of popping up at the most random times, and hanging halfway down a pit ending in a lake of lava was a very good time to be introspective.


Hanging in a metal cage halfway down a pit ending in a roiling mass of hot lava was a very good time to take an introspective look at life, even if you were screaming with all the air you could get into your lungs at the time. It wasn't like she could stop herself, it was understandable.

Willie Scott was not an independent person. She was a country girl, and therefore, used to be treated as if she would break if manhandled. To make matters worse, not only was she a girl with four brothers, but she was also the youngest, and therefore the baby of the family and the apple of her parents eyes. She had never believed that she was weaker than her brothers, but she was a little vain, so she didn't mind wearing dresses and being delicate and feminine. She had never been the type of girl to get scolded for ripping her dress climbing trees or for scraping her knee while racing with her brothers. She was the one who would be gently chided for spending too much time looking at herself in the mirror when she should be studying, or paying more attention to the handsome boy in her classes than her teachers.

She wasn't very good at school either, in the bookish aspect of the word. Yes, she had gotten by in her classes (because the first time she brought home a very bad grade her father threatened to have her tutored from home), but she was the kind of student that made the teachers kick themselves when they forgot that they should never call on her during a class discussion. The only thing she excelled at in school was being popular, knowing when to wear the right kind of dress, knowing exactly which boy would be the perfect to ask her out, etc...

Which was why it scared her to face something like this alone, with no big, strapping man to rescue her. When they lead her out done up in some gaudy ceremonial garb and she saw him just passively standing there, her heart dropped to her feet. But, she had faith in him, or at least she thought she did, so she would wait, surely he was just waiting for the right time to make his move. But, when that man came up to her and started doing whatever weird voodoo thing he was doing, something clicked. The Indy she fought with last night would have given her some sort of signal.

She knew he was not with her when he obeyed that man's orders. She knew even while she was begging him, pleading with him to snap out of it, that whatever stupor he was under was not going to abate just because she was getting hysterical.

But it hurt. It hurt a lot. It hurt knowing that this man that she was falling in love with was the one who ultimently sent her to her death. She felt strange, suddenly she had a will to live, a fighting urge bubbling up in her chest to see the light of day again. To sing like it was a gift and not something she did to make an extra buck now and again. But, she would go peacefully, albeit loudly.

Memories had a funny way of popping up in the most random places. The picture she had seen suddenly materialized in her mind, seeming more real then the oppressive heat and scalding mass below her.

Willie had found the picture. She had been looking for a cigarette and found his case. She had opened it and saw that taped to the lid there was a small picture of a younger, clean-cut version of Indiana with his arms wrapped protectively around a girl with long black hair and a charming smile. She had turned it over gently and read the few words scribed in a careful hand on the back.

_Marion, 1936._

She remembered feeling her heart crumble then. Someone else held his heart, she never could. It would be wrong of her to try, no matter how much it hurt her to let him go.

The boiling mass of lava was getting closer, the already searing heat getting hotter, the burning air filling her lungs, piercing and stabbing with each exhausting breath. Her time had come. She knew hovering around the edges of her consciousness was a welcome wave of blackness that came with fainting, and she didn't want to be able to feel when her body hit the molten pool at the bottom.

A sigh tore from her chest as she gave up and blackness engulfed her, the only thing standing out in her mind was the last words penned onto that photograph, as if they were streaked into the air.

_Love of my life, I'll miss your smile my sweet bird._


End file.
